


Discere Faciendo

by Captain_Panda



Series: Cap'n Panda's Whumptober 2020-21 [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Panda/pseuds/Captain_Panda
Summary: It's the mid-2020s, and the stars are calling, so Tony must go. He takes Starboost for an inaugural test flight and manages to break it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Cap'n Panda's Whumptober 2020-21 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953019
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Discere Faciendo

**Author's Note:**

> _Discere faciendo_ means "learn by doing."
> 
> Not really much to say about this one other than it assumes that Steve and Tony got together sometime after the events of Avengers 1. Whump without plot? Say it ain't so!
> 
> Well, there's a little plot. <3 Enjoy.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> -Cap'n Panda

Invincible Iron Man, sure, sure. Really nice story for the press: ol’ Iron Lungs never faltered in fire or storm or firestorm. Properly armored, Iron Man’s day couldn’t be ruined by even most extraordinary incidents, let alone the ordinary ones. But there were exceptions.

Like today.

“I’m fine,” Tony Stark insisted, sitting on a gurney and allowing the medics to look over his broken arm with a mixture of scientific curiosity and real concern. “Really. I’m flattered to be the first pilot to be struck in midair by a _meteor_ , as that will look excellent on my _Middle Life_ tab, but I _will_ be back in the air as soon as possible. Won’t be signing autographs any time soon, but—”

“You could’ve been killed.” _There_ it was. Tony had been wondering when _Captain America_ would chime in. From the moment Tony landed, Cap had maintained his watchful distance. Now, standing in the corner of the room with both arms folded across his chest, he looked on in disapproval, although it was hard to tell if it was more for Tony or the medics. Tony really hoped it was for the medics.

Just to be safe, they had been keeping their distance from him. Rightfully so—Cap could eviscerate them with his words, and that was to say nothing of his hands. Tony wasn’t sure it would actually hurt more to be torn limb-from-limb than to feel the weight of Cap’s entire disapproval on one’s shoulders; it certainly seared when it landed on _him_.

“I could’ve,” Tony agreed. “But I wasn’t.” He shifted his left arm; pain lanced through it. Hissing, he added, “ _Not_ for lack of trying. Where’s my gold sticker? Shouldn’t I get a—”

“ _Tony_.” Tony sighed, looking away from Cap and his righteous disapproval as Cap went on: “You _have_ to be more careful.”

“Prepare for the improbable, brace for the impossible,” Tony cited, his own personal _in the event of an emergency_ motto.

The most exasperating thing? Tony had been flying _suborbitally_. He would understand a fluke meteor strike _in space_ , but he’d purposefully stayed low on Starboost's inaugural flight. They’d wanted to guarantee a win, easy as pie. So much for a win, he thought ruefully, grimacing as he looked at his arm.

The dark red center in the center of his forearm had radiated outward in a spectacular bruise; the numbness from being exposed to extreme cold had yet to wear off, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel worried about it.

What he _could_ be worried about was the Mark XXXIX’s future. It seemed deeply inauspicious that it had failed on its first flight. He had no sooner crowed about reaching a hundred thousand feet than red-hot pain had shot through his left arm, the head-up display flashing warning messages about SUIT BREACH, right around the left elbow. 

J.A.R.V.I.S., bless his copiloting heart, had sealed the arm at the elbow without being asked, preventing a very violent and incredibly unpleasant decompression event. But the damage had been done, and Tony had been forced to land prematurely.

It was exasperating. And painful, but at least the morphine was taking the edge off. Tony couldn’t even _feel_ his fingers, which was probably _not_ good, but, hey, less _ow_ , he’d take it. 

The suit had done its best, and it _had_ saved him from an even greater catastrophe. If it hadn’t been for the metal glove, the meteorite would have simply cut _through_ his arm. As it was, it had punched into the inner shielding and caught, like a bullet carving through a thick layer of gelatin. The triple-layering had been worth it, after all, he reflected idly.

“It really does comfort me to know you’re here,” he told Cap, running his mouth a little. “I mean, who needs friends to support you when you can have God’s perfect angel looking out?” He almost meant it to be a compliment, but it was easy to poke fun, and Steve _was_ in uniform. It was hard to take him entirely seriously.

Clenching his jaw visibly, Cap refrained from commenting. Probably for the best, Tony thought, hissing as some _idiot_ tried to cast his arm. “Ah, hm, nope, not gonna do that, gonna let it _breathe_ , actually,” he said, jerking it back, flashing a winning smile that said, _Drinks, anyone?_ “Yeah, I think that’s a great plan.” He tried to leverage himself off the cot, but then Cap was in front of him, a wall, informing him:

“You can’t let it heal like that.”

“Can, will, must, should,” Tony replied, patting him firmly on the star with his good hand, nearly pitching off the little bed in the process. “Wow, my balance is— _not_ good,” he observed, speaking mostly into the blue fabric of Cap’s suit. “Hey, what happened to Starboost? Where’s my baby?”

“It’s fine,” Cap dismissed, the asshole, pushing Tony forward until he was seated on the gurney, back against the frame. “Stay.”

“Thanks, Cap,” a medico offered, gulping when Cap didn’t look away from Tony or acknowledge him in anyway. “We’ll be quick,” the medico offered lamely.

“I _will_ bite you,” Tony warned, which sounded a lot more threatening in his own head. Cap narrowed his eyes, and that was a direct challenge—Tony wanted the record to record that Cap narrowed his eyes, and that was why he latched his teeth onto Cap’s forearm. Which was covered in suit. Just like the rest of him, huh. 

“This is like the meteor,” he told Cap, words very muffled. Cap still rolled his eyes, one firm hand on Tony’s shoulder, the other ready to intervene as someone worked on—ow, _ow_ —wrapping his arm. 

“Hey, this is cruel and unusual punishment, and I _will_ sue your ass,” Tony added, forgetting that he didn’t _have_ to bite Cap on the arm to keep him from walking out until Cap suddenly released him, stepped back, and shook his arm once, dislodging Tony’s grip. “Ow,” he grumbled. “Now you broke my jaw.”

“Glad you’re still in the fighting spirit, Shellhead,” Cap deadpanned. “We done here?”

“Yes, sir,” said a different medico, a woman who didn’t even stammer over, “you’re free to go,” while her colleagues pointedly gave them room.

“Wonderful.” Tony yelped as one of his own limp-noodle arms—hehe, morphine—was slung across Cap’s shoulders. “Where’re we goin’?” he asked, neither of his legs working properly as Cap pulled him to his feet. “Hey, I’m made of Jell-O,” he observed.

Cap didn’t deign that with a reply, either, escorting him out of the med-bay—that was nice of him, Tony thought, firming up his grip on Cap’s uniform—and leading him to a blacked-out car. “Is this a kidnapping?” he asked. “Because I’ve been thinking, in terms of ransom, start with Disco, don’t you fucking _dare_ touch Starb— _oof_.”

“I thought morphine made people sleepy,” Cap grumbled from the shotgun seat. Which, hey, wait a minute, meant Tony was in the _backseat_ , and that was just—

“Give it five minutes,” advised Happy, _Happy!_

“Hey, we getting burgers?” Tony beamed. Pointing at the back of Cap’s head, he growled, “Also, you _touch_ Starboost, I will fucking kill you. That is my baby. That is the joy of my life. That is all that matters.”

“It’s in the trunk,” Happy said, ignoring the rest.

Tony bristled. “You put it in the _trunk_? I’ll put _you_ in the trunk.”

“Five minutes,” reiterated Happy, sounding far too sure of himself, while Cap just looked at Tony in the rearview mirror.

“I see you, too,” Tony reminded him, flapping his hand at his eyes, then pointing to the mirror. Cap rolled his eyes again. Good enough. “Hey, burgers? I’m _starving_.”

Then he sprawled on the seats, reiterated sternly, “Touch my baby, I’ll fucking _kill you_ ,” and clocked out.

. o .

Tony awoke on a couch, in the compound, with hunger gnawing at his belly and—

 _Where’s Starboost?_ He wasn’t wearing the suit—God, no; it weighed a literal _ton_ —but he didn’t remember where he’d put it, and—

There was a gunshot outside, and he jumped, nearly fell off the couch when he tried to catch himself on his cast, and heard a loud and extremely stern Cap say, “ _Knock it off_ ,” before Hawkeye replied cheerfully:

“Gonna make me?”

There were audible running sounds, and Tony amused himself at the mental image of Hawkeye beating the world’s hastiest retreat from the world’s fastest man, before yelping as he promptly tipped onto the floor and landed on his cast.

Mother of _God_.

Yelling in a mixture of surprise, alarm, and pain, he wasn’t expecting anyone to come running, but he heard a door slide open and then Cap huffed, “I leave you alone for _five minutes_ —”

He effortlessly tipped Tony back onto the couch. It was almost unsettling, how easily and effortlessly he just scooped Tony up in one arm and dumped him back onto the couch. Tony blinked up at him, holding very still, like a mouse about to be eaten. “I’m sorry,” he said meekly.

Cap scowled. “ _Stay_ ,” he ordered, and disappeared at another gunshot. “ _Barton!_ ”

Tony bit his lip, stifling the pain in his arm in favor of getting up and wobbling over to the kitchen area. Geez, they needed to uninstall the funhouse floor features, he thought, as the floor seemed to bob beneath him. “Oh. Hey, Tony,” Bruce said.

“Hi, Bruce,” Tony meant to say. “What the fuck is up with you?” came out. Bruce blinked once at him, surprised, before shrinking in his seat as a door slammed open again.

“ _Tony!_ ” Cap shouted.

“I think he’s—” Bruce blinked, then said anxiously, “What’re you doing?” Holding up a finger to his lips, Tony thumped onto the floor near his feet, hiding between a chair and the island. Cap came storming in, demanding:

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Bruce asked innocently.

Cap _growled_. 

“Don’t eat me,” Bruce begged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.” Tony squeezed his ankle in appreciative solidarity; Bruce jumped, slamming his knee into the underside of the island, and whimpered, “Have you tried Clint?”

Something clattered onto the counter. “Don’t shoot me,” Bruce entreated. “It’s such a mess, the big guy, he—you know—I—”

“I am _not_ gonna shoot you,” Cap said, peeved. “I just wanna know where Tony is.”

Bruce lifted an arm, pointed. “He went that way.”

“ _Thank you_.” Cap tromped off.

Tony snickered, then yelped as a hand suddenly grabbed his shirt and hauled him out from under the island. “Oh, come _on_ , you could at least _pretend_ you didn’t know,” Tony grumbled. Bruce was frozen like a deer in headlights, but Tony just poked Cap’s star-spangled chest and insisted, “You have to count to t— _hey_.” He blinked down at Cap’s back, not entirely sure how he got on his shoulder, but, well, desperate times. “I’ll throw up on you. Try me.” He wasn’t actually sure he could follow through, but he sucked back saliva noisily like he’d spit on him, and that earned an exasperated:

“ _Tony_.”

Cap dumped him back on the couch. “Just _stay down_ ,” he said, sounding more exasperated than angry, which was nice. “You’re gonna fall into the pool.”

“I am _not_ ,” Tony insisted, struggling back up. Cap even let him get to his feet, but as he bee-lined for the closed glass doors leading to, oh, hey, the pool, he thought aloud, “I mean, it’d be kind of refreshing to—” And stopped as a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, arresting his forward momentum. He whined, “Come _on_ , I just wanna—”

“ _No_.” Cap tugged him back. “Couch.”

“I don’t wanna, I wanna go in the _pool_.”

“You hate the pool,” Cap deadpanned, which didn’t sound right.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Tony added for good measure, which made him sigh and curve one arm around Tony’s chest, half-dragging, half-carrying him back to the couch.

It _was_ an exceptionally comfortable couch, Tony thought, blinking suddenly heavy eyes at him. “Hey, can we get pizza for dinner?” he asked, squirming to sit up, struggling with his left arm. “With olives. I don’t care that Clint is a coward, did he take my suit?” he demanded suddenly, remembering his purpose in life. “ _Where’s Starboost?_ ”

Cap eyed him remorselessly. “Will you stay put?” he asked eventually.

“Swear on my honor,” Tony said.

Cap turned and walked. Tony struggled to his feet and stumbled after him. “Am I drugged?” he asked, somehow not very worried at all about the possibility.

“Yes,” Cap said. “Go sit. Final warning.”

“Did _you_ drug me?” Tony speculated, frowning. “That’s a low blow, even for—”

Steering him back to the couch, Cap pushed him to sit, insisted, “ _Stay_ ,” and disappeared.

Tony struggled after him, insisting, “No, no, I want answers. You did do this.”

“Yes,” Cap deadpanned, surely sarcastic but a verbal admission, nonetheless. _Hah!_

Tony forgot to be mad as Starboost came into view, leaning up against the wall like the beautiful bastard it was. “That’s my _baby_ ,” he beamed, flinging both arms around it and kissing it loudly on the face-plate.

Sighing, Cap hooked a hand in his shirt, pulling him back again as he pressed doting kisses to its face. “No— _no_. Take _Disco_ , you can’t have Starboost,” he seethed, trying to hook both arms around the suit and failing. Because his left arm was encased in cement. That was dumb as hell. “Get this off me,” he told Cap, placing his plastered arm in Cap’s hands. “Just, you know. _Rahhh, smash_ it.”

Cap slid an arm around his shoulders, giving him a little tug in the opposite direction. “Satisfied?” he grunted. “Suit’s fine.”

Tony kissed his cheek. “My _hero_ ,” he said. When he tried to press more kisses to his cheek, Cap held him firmly at arm’s length, making him pout. “What? Too alpha to kiss me? Coward.”

Cap said firmly, “Couch.”

The couch _was_ nice, Tony reflected, but he _was_ starving. “I’m feelin’ fettucine alfredo. How do we make that happen?”

“Go to sleep,” Cap ordered.

“Will there be fettucine alfredo when I wake up?” Tony asked, raising both eyebrows defiantly. He tried to tuck his arms behind his head to complete his _I am a tempting offer_ appearance, but, tragically, the cast on his left arm thwarted him. He grunted in annoyance and said, “Why is this here?”

“Because you got hurt,” Cap replied. “Go to sleep.”

Tony thought, _That doesn’t sound likely_ , but he rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes—let Cap _think_ he’d comply, he snickered internally—and somehow actually falling asleep.

. o .

Tony had a pounding headache. “Oh,” he said, grimacing, struggling onto his side so he could curl his arm around his head. “ _Ow_ ,” he rephrased.

He heard a book set down— _ow_ , loud—and then Cap knelt in front of him. He knew it was Cap because those red boots were unmistakable, as was the blue uniform. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

Tony grunted, shoving his plastered arm over his head to block him out. “I’ll get you a glass of water,” Cap announced, and stood.

“Wait,” Tony said, because the thought of him disappearing was suddenly unbearable. “Wait.”

Cap didn’t crouch, but he lingered. Removing his arm wasn’t an option, so Tony just forced out, “Don’t go.”

“I won’t. I’m just getting water,” Cap said calmly. It wasn’t fair, really, Tony thought, clenching his hand in a fist that sent pain zinging down his arm. _Cap_ could be unconcerned. But Tony was drugged. He knew he was drugged. And it didn’t stop him from saying anyway:

“I need you.”

There was an audible pause before Cap crouched again, arms resting on his knees. “I’m not gonna _go_ anywhere,” he rationalized. His eyes were very blue, and a little hard to see. Oh, hell. Tony shifted his arm, carefully hiding his own eyes. There. That was better. “You’re probably dehy—”

“Please?” He winced, a full body flinch, but it was out there, and he couldn’t retract it. That would be _worse_.

Sighing, Cap said, “Tony,” in the kind of _I don’t have time for games_ voice that usually meant he’d walk. Instead, he slid so he was sitting in front of the couch, back pressed against it. “All right.”

That was good, but—Tony surrendered to the misery of the headache to lower his arm to grip at Cap’s shoulder, getting a weak fistful of uniform for his efforts.

He didn’t sleep, precisely, but between one moment and the next, he heard Cap speaking to—Nat?

“Aren’t you two a picture?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your voice down.”

“That fun?”

“Mm.”

Tony tried to grip Cap’s shoulder more firmly, to articulate, _I heard that_ , without words, but the effort made his arm hurt even more, so he loosened his grip instead.

“You’re just showin’ off.”

“Well. I can’t say it isn’t in my job description.” A beat. “Would you like some?”

“What’s it gonna cost?”

“Clever boy.”

“That much?”

“How about a picture?”

Cap sighed. “Keep it.”

There was a sliding noise. “Nah. I’m not that mean. I already have enough blackmail on both of you.”

“Gee. Thanks.” A cardboard lid popped open. Cap sighed, “Thanks.”

“Watchdog.”

“Coming from you?”

“It’s in my job description to be a hypocrite.”

“Clever girl.”

“Lemme know if I can throw Barton in the pool.”

“No. No, he’s fine.”

“I think I’m gonna throw him in, anyway. Might be fun.”

Cap sighed again, but after a short beat, he said, “Just don’t get hurt.”

“No, that’s Stark’s job.”

Making a little affronted noise, Tony tried again to rouse himself. Cap just said unexpectedly, “She’s kidding.”

Grunting once, unsatisfied, Tony pried his eyes open. It was unexpectedly dark in the compound, and there was an open box of pizza next to Cap. Hunger rumbled in Tony’s belly. The launch had been at _noon_. “If you sit up, you can have some,” Cap offered, already working on slices three and four, together. Or maybe one and two—hard to say how much Natasha had eaten.

Tony tried, he really, really did, and he did _not_ almost cry when he failed, sniffling, “I have allergies.”

Cap tugged him up effortlessly. It really wasn’t fair. “You can have Starboost,” he sniffed, accepting a slice of pizza and taking a tentative bite. “You’d take good care of her. Right?”

“’Course I would,” Cap said, which both made him very relieved and very sad. He sniffled again. Damn allergies. “But I won’t. It’s yours, Tony. I’m not here to take that away.”

“But you _do_ wanna take it away,” Tony insisted.

Cap actually sounded confused as he replied, “Why would I wanna do that?”

“S’dangerous. Risky. Enabling, isn’t it?” He muttered the words around bites of pizza, ravenous but—slow. Hunger was a distant thing, belonging to a body operating without his conscious input needed. “Look, I know it’s risky. I know. I get it.”

“I want you to pursue risks, Tony,” Cap said, probably the most unexpected thing to come out of his mouth—maybe _ever_ , Tony thought, pausing mid-bite. “Not to get hurt, but—progress only happens when you try something new. And that means taking a chance.”

Finishing his bite, Tony managed, “That is—not, what I was expecting you to say. Are you really Steve Rogers? Or a Skrull? I’ve heard of those, Nick Fury keeps them in his—”

“It’s me, Tony,” Cap interjected, firm but—kind. He could be kind, too. Not just terrifying, in that, _I will kill you if you hurt my family_ way. There was the whole _I will kill you_ warning, but the _if you hurt my family_ part mattered, too. Tony was family. That was nice.

“I’m super stoned,” he said aloud.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Cap said, in a clearly sarcastic tone, but, Tony still found himself nodding, saying:

“Good, that’s good. Because I will find revenge, if you do.”

“I’m shaking,” Cap deadpanned.

He wasn’t. “Meanie,” Tony muttered.

“Meanie who brought you pizza,” Steve rumbled, conciliatory, easygoing.

Tony sighed, “Doesn’t sound right when you say it.” After a beat, he added, “This is Natasha’s pizza. You’re a thief.”

“She had three boxes.”

“And? Women can eat three boxes of pizza in one sitting, too, Rogers. Don’t be sexist.”

“My bad,” Cap drawled. “Here I thought she was bringing some for the family.”

“Well. Or that,” Tony conceded. He rubbed his sleeve over his face, miffed to find it damp. “Damn allergies,” he reminded.

“Yeah, they’ll get to ya,” Cap agreed. He was on slice seven, purposefully leaving another for Tony. And that renewed the dampness on his face. Hellfire.

“What do _you_ know about allergies?” Tony grunted, picking up the last slice. “I’ll have you know, I am a _champion_ of allergies. I have none.”

“That does sound like a champion of allergies,” Cap said, solemn, like he was agreeing, but also with a hint of a smile, like he wasn’t.

“I hate you,” Tony said, following it up immediately with, “You are _impossible_ to read. Like, even on a good day. Do you even _like_ cheesecake?”

“I’ll eat it,” Cap answered cryptically.

“See? That’s what I mean. Everyone likes cheesecake. Everyone. Do you? _I don’t know_.”

“Do you want cheesecake?”

“That’s not the _point_ ,” Tony grunted. “Don’t deflect. Why am I _crying_?” He scrubbed his sleeve over his face again, careful not to shove pizza into his eye. “This is really good,” he sniffed. “Like, really good.”

“Yeah, everything tastes better on an empty stomach,” Cap said sagely. He finished his slices, pushing the box onto the floor. Then, almost— _almost_ —tentatively, he asked, “Do you need a hug?”

In answer, Tony shook his head, took another big bite of pizza, and hiccupped. “No. I want my suit. Where’s Starboost?” Finishing the crust, he tipped forward, burying himself in Cap’s warm, broad chest, and stated, “This is not a hug. This is a takeover. Surrender or be . . . surrendered.”

Letting out a little huff, Cap set a hand on his back, said, “Yeah, I think I’ll surrender.”

“ _You_?” Tony repeated, briefly wondering if he really _was_ a Skrull. “Wow.”

“It happens,” Cap said. “Just like getting hit by a meteor in the air. First pilot to ever do so, you know.”

“ _This_ fucking close to being the first person,” Tony sighed. “Goddamn. Can you imagine?”

“Hey, gettin’ hit by lightning is still a _wow_ factor, even though it’s not—”

“Sweetheart, do _not_ jinx me.”

Cap hummed in agreement. “So, does that mean we’re back on friendly terms?” he teased.

Tony rubbed his cheek back and forth against Cap’s belly. The abs were not as uncomfortable as one would expect them to be. Probably because he was practically perfect in every way, Tony grumbled. “No. We are not. I still . . . .” He yawned unexpectedly. “Why?”

“No reason.” Stroking his thumb against Tony’s side hypnotically—hah! Mind control!—Cap said, “You do know we’re _married_ , though.”

Tony blinked. “Yes, of course I do,” he said slowly. Flexing his left arm, he struggled to sit up enough to look down at the golden band on it. “I knew that . . . prior to you mentioning it.”

Cap hooked an arm around him and gently tugged him back to lie down on his chest. Tony went with a relieved sigh. Marriage was _great_. Free pillows. He said as much aloud, and Cap hummed in agreement. “Hey,” Tony said suddenly, “why didn’t you let me kiss you? Is it the alpha thing?”

Cap sighed. “You _licked_ me.”

“I did not,” Tony said immediately, scandalized. “I _wooed_ you.” He struggled upright, gripped Cap’s head in his hands, and proved his point by—licking a stripe from jawline to brow. Cap grimaced, but at least he didn’t chuck Tony into the pool, like he would if Clint tried anything remotely tomfoolery. “The perfect kiss,” Tony said, flopping down hard, snuggling in now that he had permission. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Cap said, very dryly, as he lifted an arm and pointedly scrubbed away the perfect kiss. Tony sighed.

“Ungrateful.”

“S’me.”

“No, he’s Captain Hook’s righthand,” Tony yawned. “Why am I tired? I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“You decompressed at a hundred thousand feet. You’re lucky you’re not still in the hospital,” Cap said, suddenly solemn.

“ _No_ , I—had a minor impact event, and did not decompress.”

“You fell from the sky,” Cap deadpanned.

Tony tried to put himself back in the air, the red lights, the blackout vertigo, the searing pain, the realization of _oh shit_ followed by _hey, I’m almost on the ground,_ and then landing neatly, because Starboost could not do anything _but_ land neatly. He sniffled again and said, “I really love that suit.”

“Mm?”

“It’s my _baby_ ,” Tony insisted. “My _baby_.”

“Yeah,” Cap sighed. “Worked real hard on it. For a long time.”

“Where’s your suit?” Tony prompted. “I thought—”

Cap said, “When Iron Man falls from the sky, somebody’s gotta be there to catch him. Maybe I can’t catch the suit, but I knew there’d be people on our tail, and I could keep them off it.” _Our tail_ , Tony thought, amused, like his problem was their problem, and maybe that was marriage, too. _Our problems_. It was pretty nice. “People love this suit,” he added.

“It is very nice,” Tony agreed, rubbing his face against the slightly worn fabric again. “Don’t take Starboost. Please. Disco’s lovely. It’s just awful. It’s just the worst, but it’s not _bad_. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. 

He’d taken one look at the blue-and-orange monstrosity, said, _This is why I don’t paint suits while drunk_ , and christened it after his least favorite genre of music. It wasn’t a _bad suit_ , it was just the most _godawful_ color scheme. Red and gold were his trademark colors for a reason—even white-and-gold Starboost had half the colors right!

Blue and orange. What was he _thinking_? “I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered aloud, justifying himself. “I wasn’t.”

“S’okay.” Shuffling around, Cap let him rest on his chest, sprawled between his legs. He was so _damn_ comfortable. Even the headache was receding, and the heaviness of the day was a weight on his eyelids. “S’gonna be fine, Tony. We’ll get it back up.”

 _We’ll_ get it back up. That was a nice thought, too.

We, us, together—“Marriage is good,” he muffled into Cap’s shirt.

Cap set a hand on the back of his hand, sifting through his hair gently. Tony growled automatically, _no touching_ , but when Cap slid it down to his shoulders instead, scratching at the backs of them lightly, he allowed it.

He listened to Cap’s chest rise and fall, careful to avoid the star, careful to avoid pressing the cast down, and yet too limp-noodle to care about either. He’d _die_ for the star, because it belonged to Cap, and—“I do love you,” he said. “Almost as much as Starboost.”

Cap— _Steve_ —laughed, wonderfully familiar, pure in its surprise. “Wow,” he managed. “Here I was just hoping for third place.”

“Oh, _Rhodey_ ,” Tony said suddenly. “Third place is still worthy of a medal.”

“I’m glad you have your priorities.”

“Bros before—” Hiccupping, Tony finished, “I’m sorry I licked you.”

“S’okay. Not the worst thing that’s happened.”

“I wouldn’t throw up on you. On purpose.”

“I appreciate that,” Steve sighed. “I’d still carry you.”

“Aww,” Tony simpered. “That’s true love.” He fumbled around, yelped when he banged his casted arm against the couch, and finally grasped Steve’s left hand with his right. And there was the ring. Wow. “I do remember you. Totally. We are— _wow_. Married.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I am really high.”

“You did lick my face. Twice.”

“Oh, well.” Squirming against him to get comfortable, Tony said, “Only twice. That’s hardly reasons to file for a divorce.”

“Gonna have to try a lot harder than that,” Steve agreed. “Go to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “Where else am I gonna go?”

 _Damn good point_ , Tony thought.

. o .

If he put a big red bow on Disco and symbolically gifted it to his husband, he liked to think it was a sign that he still stood by everything he said. “I am sorry,” he added honestly. “For everything I said while I was high on morphine.”

“Some of it was sweet,” Steve assured, flicking his gaze over Disco once. Still elusive, even after—four years, _wow_. That part _did_ still knock Tony’s socks off.

“I really scored big in the whole spouse department,” Tony said cheerfully, hands planted on his hips as he stood back to admire his godawful creation.

Steve sighed. “That’s the spirit.”

“No. _This_ is,” Tony said sagely, and reeled him in for a proper kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> STARBOOST:  
> https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/5VMAAOSwRope-bUO/s-l640.jpg
> 
> DISCO:  
> https://cdn2.bigcommerce.com/server3500/26633/products/1367/images/25056/13592372_10153632421757344_4786104425906075441_n__20345.1468340186.1000.1200.jpg?c=2


End file.
